Screwed Up and Thrown Away
by Yma
Summary: Shortly after Tabby's departure, Kurt recives a letter from her detailing her thoughts.


Hello guys, this is my latest fic, hope it's OK. Please R&R. 

Screwed Up and Thrown Away

Disclaimer: Not mine, only borrowed, played with, and put carefully back where they came from!

Recently, Kurt Wagner had been a little depressed. Usually he was good at hiding these things, good at covering over hurt and sadness with jokes and laugher. Lately, though, his friends had noticed a sense of melancholy about the elf. Nothing too bad, just a strange sadness in some of his words, the odd, wistful look that sometimes came into his eye, and the increase in time he spent alone on his balcony. 

Most nights he sat there, staring out into the darkness, as if trying to pierce the distance with his golden eyes. Those of his friends who were more observant noticed a change even in this activity. For he was not looking eastwards, towards Germany, his homeland. Nor was he looking westwards, where the long road away from Bayville and the mansion stretched, the road of adventure, to his future. He wasn't even gazing upwards to the heavens dreamily, pondering questions of god and his family, his biological family. No, recently he had taken to looking straight ahead, into the nest of tiny lights that was Bayville, into its centre, where the Brotherhood house lay. 

Everyone knew that the reason for his mood could be summarised in one word.

Tabby.

On this night, three days after her departure, he was once again perched on the balcony, once again staring out towards the Brotherhood home, once again pondering the events wistfully. 

'Why are you doing this?' 

Kurt turned to see Scott, leaning on the doorway to his room, looking at him in the way only he could. For some reason his crimson shades seemed to magnify that deep, probing gaze. 

'Didn't you ever learn to knock?' asked Kurt, a sounding little more snappy than he meant to.

'Why? You don't.'

'Ja, but you are leader; you should be setting an example for 'porting scoundrels like me.'

'Don't change the subject, Kurt. You've been moping around for ages now, it's stupid. There's nothing you could have done.'

'Isn't there? She liked me, Scott. She trusted me, she wanted to be with me, but she left me. She left us. There must have been something…'

Scott shifted uncomfortably, he hated to voice his opinion, didn't want to upset his friend, but what had to be said had to be said. 

'What makes you think that? What makes you think that she wasn't… well… that she wasn't just in it for a good time? She was a bit of a… um… thrill seeker.'

'Ja but, well, she liked _me Scott.' Kurt's voice was soft and earnest, 'she flirted with me! I… I've always flirted with women, but none have ever flirted back. I mean, she had you and Evan and all the other new mutant boys to choose from, but she chose me. The fuzzy blue one… maybe that was the problem.'_

'What do you mean?'

'Tabby is a free sprit; she doesn't like to be held down. Perhaps I was so… so happy that someone could like me I held her too tightly. Perhaps I was over protective, maybe she felt so trapped she ran away from us. She always said she hated all the rules in this place.' 

Scott shook his head, 'no,' he said, 'you weren't the problem, Kurt. Fact is, I think you were the main thing holding her here. We weren't the problem, either. Not really. Tabby was the problem; she's her own worst enemy. She forced herself to leave, I think. There's no use beating yourself up over a problem Tabby caused and one, ultimately, that she'll have to solve.'

Kurt smiled ruefully, 'you've been talking to the Professor, haven't you?'

'Yeah well, Tabby was one of the team. One of my team, and when one of my team deserts, I want to know why, want to know what went wrong. A good thing about having a telepath as a mentor, he can explain your own thoughts, as well as the other persons. Though I can tell that the Professor's pretty knocked up about this too. You're not alone, Kurt.'

'You would not believe quite how wrong you are, Scott,' replied Kurt softly, the cold moonlight showing his melancholy profile. 'Speaking of which,' he continued, 'I would really rather be on my own for a bit. Sort out my own thoughts, OK?'

'Sure,' replied Scott, 'but if you want a listening ear, you know where to find it.'

'Ja, danke.'

Kurt's sharp ears caught the sound of the door softly closing, as Scott made his departure, and he was once again alone, staring out into the heart of Bayville.

No more than half an hour had passed before his sharp night eyes caught sight of… something… a boy, outside the gates of the mansion. Suddenly there was a rustle of wind, lightly shaking the lower tree branches, and the figure by the gate was gone, replaced by a figure just under the balcony. Only one person alive could pull a stunt like that.

Pietro Maximoff, with his slender body and silver hair looked almost wraith-like in the cold moonlight. With a smooth motion he flung something towards the balcony.

Acting on instinct, Nightcrawler dived for cover, rolling as far away from the projectile as possible, and covering his eyes, less it be some sort of flash bomb. It landed with a harsh clatter. Then there was another rustle of leaves as the aptly named Quicksilver made a hasty departure.

Then there was silence. 

Relived not to hear any tell-tale sounds of ticking, Kurt slowly opened his large golden orbs. The thrown object lay harmlessly on the floor, rocking slightly. Its tinny sound and familiar shape showed it to be a tin can, an empty tin can.

Never the less, Kurt was cautious, knowing to be wary of enemies bearing gifts. He slowly crept forward on all fours, his fir and shape making him look like some sort of strange animal. When he was only a meter away from the can he took a deep whiff of the air, then fell back again. 

His sense of smell, while not as developed as Wolverine's, was still superior to the average persons, and he quickly processed the scents he detected upon the can. 

The strongest, unsurprisingly, was that of coke. He also caught the tang of Pietro's aftershave, and the slight, signature stink of Toad. The smell that really sent his heart racing, though, was the familiar odour of Tabby's cheep body-spray.

Despite himself, Kurt smiled, remembering the last time he had been so acutely aware of its fragrance.

_'Do you have to do that?' he wined, as she spayed yet more of the foul stuff upon her body, in the air, and around the place in general._

_It was after a danger room session, they had both showered but, for reasons beyond Kurt's comprehension, Tabby insisted on spraying herself afterwards, right in front of him. The cheep scent of the body-spray burnt his eyes and nostrils, it even caught in his throat, putting a foul taste on his tongue and choking him. _

_She laughed, 'sure I do, blue,' she replied merrily, 'least I do with your brimstone stench clogging up the place.'_

_He was shocked, 'I smell?' he said in a tone that was question, statement, and recrimination. He was well aware that his sulphur clouds from his teleporting left a residual stink for a few moments, but had never thought that it clung to him at all. No one had ever pointed it out. _

_Tabby laughed again, 'course not, I was just pulling your tail.'_

_'Oh,' sighed Kurt, much relieved, 'good.'_

_'Actually,' she continued, moving forward, 'you smell kind of… musky, if you know what I mean.' _

_'Um… not really.'_

_She moved even closer, 'you know, musky, like… masculine.'_

_She brought her left hand up (the right one was still holding the body spray) and touched Kurt's chest._

_Kurt's mind, body, and hormones went into overdrive. No one outside of his parents and some of his very, very good friends had ever touched him, not like this. Oh, people grabbed him, carried him, even pushed him but no one ever… touched him, not if they could help it. It had always irked him, always reminded him of how different, how alien he really was. But Tabby was touching him, and looking at him in a way that somehow promised much, much, more. _

_Without quite realising how, they seemed to move nearer to each other, soon their faces were only inches apart, and Kurt was acutely aware of how soft and inviting Tabby's soft lips were._

_'Kurt,' she murmured softly._

_'Ja,' replied Kurt automatically, his golden eyes half closed._

_'There's something you should hear…'_

_'Ja…'_

_'Bamph!'_

_With that word she brought the body-spray up and applied it liberally to Kurt and the air around him. He doubled over in choked coughs, his eyes watering, and nose on fire. There was a giggle, and he heard the sound of running footsteps. When he managed to open his streaming eyes again, Tabby was gone. _

Kurt made a decision; he grabbed the can, holding it at arms length. It failed to do anything. Slowly, tentatively, he brought it closer, there were several sheets of paper tied around it with a frayed string. 

Placing it carefully on his desk, he used some scissors to cut the string holding the paper to the coke can. He worked carefully, as if disarming a bomb, and he dived under the desk as soon as the paper came loose of the can.

When nothing dangerous materialised, he crept into a chair and picked up the paper. It was a letter, written in Tabby's handwriting, a simple, scribbled script, which made even Kurt's English look good upon occasion. 

Licking his lips, Kurt stared blankly at the biro scrawl on the cheep paper. What was this about? A goodbye message? A love letter? A note recrimination? Taking a deep breath, he forced his eyes to focus on the text.

In the semi darkness, with only the sound of turning pages, and rustling paper, Kurt Wagner read the letter.

_Hi Blue_

_I'm not sure where to begin, never really wrote a letter before. Generally prefer to talk, but I think it's easier doing it this way for now, I can get the words out better, think about what I can say. Besides, I doubt I'm that welcome at the institute at the moment. Not that I have a problem with that._

_Suppose I should ask you how you are? How you're keeping? But that's a bit stupid, I'm not expecting a reply to this._

_But still, that's one of the reasons why I'm writing this, to make sure you're OK. That and to tell you that I am, OK, I mean. I don't want you to worry._

_You know, that's what makes you special. I never cared much for the others, Scott, Jean, Kitty, Jamie, and Sam, any of the other residents. Wouldn't write to them. But you, you're special. You care, really care, guess that's what makes me care too. _

_See, I've always been sure of my place in life, what happened recently, with my Pa, it just confirmed it. Confirmed who I am, what I do. _

_The others will probably tell you that this isn't your fault, that I did this to myself, that this was my decision. They're right. It was never your fault, Blue, and I'm telling you this because I know you'll beat yourself up about this, and you shouldn't, you really shouldn't. It's not their fault either, the institute… I guess it was good, it just wasn't me. _

_I'm not worth it, Blue. Few people are. Or maybe it isn't worth me. I don't know. _

_See, I was born on a trailer park, the result of a wild party, a one night stand, and a hasty marriage. My mom up and left when I was three, she probably only stayed that long because I was cute. I'm not bitter about that, though; dad couldn't give her anything except a tonne of empty beer cans and the odd punch to the face, and me? What could I ever offer mom? What can I ever offer anyone? _

_Not that I'm after pity! Never that. I don't need it, don't want it. Pity brings you down, Blue, makes you ashamed of who or what you are. I'm proud of being me, proud in a strange way, but still proud._

_Must sound weird to you, the idea that I could be proud of being trailer park trash, but I am, I might as well be. _

_You wouldn't believe how fitting that phrase is. Because here was SO much trash back where I lived, people just used it as a sort of unofficial dump, and the rubbish was as much a part of that place as me and __Pa.__ It's amazing what people got rid of, ratty, used furniture, electrical things which either don't work anymore, or were updated for 'better' models. Stuffed toys, too, things that the kids had grown out of. Sometimes there were animals too, dead and alive. Abandoned pets, tossed out because they were too old or too young. I would have liked to have adopted one, a kitten or something, but Pa always said no. He never kept anything that wasn't useful to him in some way._

_Not sure why he kept me as long as he did, I think it was because he wanted… well, let's just say he had plans for me. Course, when my powers developed he found new, better ways to use me. Did quite well out of me, got a lot of cash, pounding our way into vaults and buildings. That was fine though, kept food in my stomach, a roof over my head, it could have been a lot worse, and I knew where I was, I knew I was a tool. Not that I liked it, I don't like being used, by anyone, and I guess I wanted more._

_So when Xavier came to our doorstep, giving us his little speech, I figured this was my big chance. Left Pa and the trailer park and the trash behind, went to look for a new life, a new way, a new me. _

_That didn't last long though, did it? That time I spent with you, in the mansion, it was good in some ways, perhaps it was some of the best days of my life, but it wasn't me. And Pa's little visit only proved that. _

_See, all those training sessions you go to, those rules you obey, the lectures and talks you get, they're designed for one thing, to turn you into heroes, heroes with a dream. Soldiers for a cause. And at the end of the day, soldiers are only tools for the general._

_Xavier's cause may be good, may be noble, but he's still using you, was still using me. And I don't want to be used by anyone else but myself. _

_The others don't know this yet, they're happy to lap up the sweet speeches and stupid rules. They don't know, or don't want to know, Evan, Ray, Jubes, they suspect, I think, but they're in denial, don't want to admit what they see. The only other person, who knows what's going on, who understands this, deep down, is you. _

_You're probably shaking your head now, probably thinking I'm wrong. Maybe I am, maybe I'm delusional, or maybe you are. I don't know why else I felt so close to you._

_Don't tell me you haven't suspected, haven't wondered. _

_You're a mascot, Kurt, a living symbol that 'normal and freakish can live together in harmony.' I see it in the way people look at you, in what they say when you're not around, the way no one touches you. No one except me. This isn't the first time, either, like me you've been used, just differently. Remember your act at the circus? The flying demon! See him soar! See his blue fir! See the all singing, all dancing, and all fuzzy blue freak! Face it; you were in a freak show rapped in with shiny paper. Didn't you say that the Wagners took you in because they had no kids of their own? Because they thought they couldn't? Haven't you ever wondered if they would have taken you in if they already had a child? Don't you ever feel bad that Mystique threw you away just because you weren't useful? Because you were an inconvenience? _

_You're probably hurting now, and I'm sorry. I don't want to cause you pain, I'm just telling it the way I know it is, the way you know it is, if you'll admit it to yourself. Me and you, we're two of a kind. _

_Except for one thing, you bounce back. Don't know how you do it. You face all this stuff, all this pain, and you bounce back, like a rubber ball, you keep coming back for more. I don't, I can't. My life, the things I've seen, I've done, the things I know, they've shaped me, made me cynical, I guess, made me bitter. _

_But you? You just joke it off. You've had so much worse a time of it than me, but you've come out of it laughing. Sure, there's a little anger in you, a little bitterness, hidden under those covers of laugher and jokes we both use to hide ourselves, to hide our pain, but basically you're OK. _

_I don't understand it; you're so good, Kurt, solid gold, you care about everyone, even those that hurt you time and again. Despite it all you remain a good person, and that's a rare, rare thing. _

_I wish I could say as much about myself. But I'm trash, Kurt; I'm not worth one tenth of what you are. _

_Perhaps that's another reason why I left, I'm not good for you, not really, and I don't deserve you. _

_But I never meant to use you, and if I did then I'm sorry, I truly, truly am. Not that I'm against using people, they use me after all, but you're different. Thing was, at first you were just a quickie. Yeah, I use boys for fun, some would call me a whore, maybe they're right, but the way I see it, men sleep with women for fun all the time, just look at Duncan or Pietro, no one condemns them. So why shouldn't I? I'd rather be the user than the used. And every man I've ever been with, he's used me as much as I used him. But you, you're different. You didn't jump into bed with me at a drop of a hat, or try to steal kisses, you cared. You wanted me to be happy, you were more concerned about things like love, and honesty, and trust than getting a quick thrill in the chemistry closet. _

_You're probably worried about me now, a few people are, but for different reasons. They still want to use me, make me a tool, for them, or for 'society.'_

_They say 'you're screwing yourself over, Tabitha,' or tell me that I'm 'throwing my life away.' _

_Yeah, well, maybe I am, but at least I'm doing it for myself. At least when I look back on this I'll know no one can be blamed but me; no one used me, but me. _

_I know, I'm with the Brotherhood, with Magneto's gang, his little group of soldiers. Except I'm not, not really. See, the Brotherhood, they're like me, like us, when you get down to it. They're all the dregs of society, the different, the abused, the abandoned, people who've been used and thrown away. They don't care a bit about Maggie's big cause; they just want a roof over their heads and food in their stomach. Not that they're even getting much of that, at the moment, Magneto and Mystique seem to have abandoned them, maybe they're no longer of use. _

_Pietro reckons that Magneto will return, he's the only one of them who believes in the rule of 'homo-superior,' but he's delusional. One day he'll realize how much of a tool he really is, how badly he's been screwed over, how much the Master of Magnetism actually cares for him, then the fireworks will really fly._

_For the most part, though, they know their place, they know they're tools, know they're trash. Which is more than I can say for the X-men. _

_So I guess you could say I'm where I belong._

_I'm running out of things to write now, I've never blabbed so much in my life, can't believe I've said so much, but it needed to be said. You needed to know._

_You're probably wondering what this is all about, probably thinking that I'm trying to hurt you, or trying to get you to leave the X-men. I'm not. _

_Like I said, you're one of the few people in this world I give a damn about, and one of the few people who have ever given a damn about me. I figure you're worth this. _

_What's this about? It's about truth. You can say a lot of bad things about me, and most of them would be right, but I tell the truth, the solid, bare faced truth, to those I care about, and to myself, which is more than most people do, when you get down to it. _

_I've lied to you before, Kurt, and I'm sorry for it, but this, all of this is the truth as far as I know it, I swear._

_What do you do with the truth, Blue? Do you hide it? Use it? Deny it? Embrace it? It's up to you. I've done it my way, made my decision, but you've got to make yours on your own. _

_You're gold, Kurt, solid gold. You have goodness, a gentleness in you which is better than anything I've ever encountered, you don't deserve to be trash, but maybe it's all you can ever be. I don't know._

_It's your choice, Blue. You can be a hero, be used, deny this and carry on, or embrace it, but live with it anyway. You can live slow, shine bright, die young. _

_Or you can be with us, live with the trash. You'll never be a hero, never be as good as you're supposed to be, but you'll be yourself. You can be trash, screw yourself up and throw yourself away into the bin where the other rubbish lives. Do it for yourself before someone does it for you._

_Either way, it's your choice. That's all I can give you, all I have to offer, though you deserve so, so much more. Live well, Blue, live right._

_Be seeing you around. _

_Love Tabby. _

He sat alone in the darkness, reading the papers over and over again. 

Then Kurt Wager returned to his balcony, staring out into the night all around, still holding the letter. 

The moon was riding high by the time he had finished. He slowly crept down from his perch and made his way to the door. On his way there he screwed up the letter paper, and with a smooth motion, threw it into the trash can. Then he left, closing the door softly behind him. 

THE END

Remember, R&R if you liked it! 


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